Blood Always Tells
by Argetlam Grogins
Summary: My version of 'Empire' book three of the Inheritance trilogy. Will Angela's prophecy fulfil itself? Will Murtagh break free of Galbatorix's command? What of the last dragon egg?
1. Prologue

Prologue

A crimson sunset envelopes the land of Alagaesia in a thick red mist; traders and merchants quicken their pace along weathered roads, glancing nervously around themselves and often shivering despite the humidity of the air.

To brave the open planes at nightfall is a risk than none but the fool-hardy wish to undertake.

A farmer reaps what he can from his pitiful fields and retreats into a crudely made hut, wondering whether he's harvested enough for his own let alone his villages welfare.

Throughout the land war has taken its toll on the Empires inhabitants, taxes have been raised in order to fund non-existent protection from urgals and bandits, and entire villages are being conscripted into a little known war between the King Galbatorix's empire and the elusive Varden.

To the west, alongside the Burning Planes the Jiet River seems to sum up the state of the land, dismembered body parts and deep red blood accompany the usual chalky dirt and flotsam flowing south towards Surda. Alongside the river the Burning Planes are in a sorrier state than usual, piles upon piles of slain warriors, Empire and Varden, Dwarven and Human roast together under the bloodied sky.

The Varden's camp remains on the brink of the battlefield, a day after their important victory. But the mood of the triumphant heroes is one of despair and desperation. Another rider has joined the ranks of Galbatorix; one of unnatural power, whom many of the Varden once fought alongside and a blood brother to the last hope of those who oppose the Empire.

As dawn's desperation rises from the ashes Eragon Shadeslayer shifts restlessly in his trance like sleep. Beset by re-awakened nightmares from the past, can this confused hero save himself, Let alone an entire kingdom?


	2. Dawn's Despair

**Dawn's Despair**

Burning Planes War Camp:

'_**He threw himself at the rider, trapping both swords between their bodies, hooked his fingers underneath the helm, and ripped it off. And there in the centre of the plateau, on the edge of the burning planes of Alagaesia, stood Murtagh.' **_

Eragon twisted violently through his fitful sleep.

'**_Misery and Thorn, a fit match.'_**

Images of the battle spiralled uncontrollably throughout his tortured mind, mingled with memories of him and Murtagh's better times.

'**_Morzan was our father…'_**

The final words tore through him again and again, vibrations and echoes piercing his mind and splintering his shattered sanity.

'_**So be it. I take my inheritance from you, brother. Farewell.'**_

Eragon woke suddenly, twisting franticly out of his sheets he toppled out of his bed and came to rest on the ground in a tangled heap. Squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the soft light of dawn he reluctantly rose from the dew-dampened floor and stretched out his sore muscles.

_Are you all right, little one?_

The words were simple enough but the underlying compassion and slight comfort they brought him were like a lifeline from his fevered nightmares.

_I'm fine Saphira_

His words were stiff and impatient, as they had been ever since the battle three days past. As he turned to leave the tent his gaze drifted over Roran. A slight hint of a grin appeared on his face as he studied his rugged cousins' dishevelled features. Roran's mere presence comforted him slightly driving away his depressing memories.

He left the tent slowly smiling at a sleepy Saphira, while both eyes and mind subconsciously scanned the Varden's camp for any unwanted visitors. Since the battle the 'Black Hand' had launched several retaliation strikes, aiming to remove both Nasuada and himself from the Varden's ranks. Fortunately the surviving soldiers had kept up a sturdy vigilance, not allowing their brief success to get to their heads and warding off assassins and spies time after time.

Nodding greetings to the various messengers and guards scurrying between the tents Eragon arrived at Nasuada's domain and was promptly granted entry by the several large guards. The war council was seated around a rectangular table in the centre of the tent and, to Eragon's amusement were in the middle of a heated discussion about lace. After looking up briefly to acknowledge him Orrin cleared his throat and boomed,

"As I said before, the very idea is preposterous! Surda keeps a good income through various armoury guilds, and the local farmers reap more than enough to provide for us."

"Aye, but if we wish to continue our offensive campaign against Galbatorix we need methods of income that are both more reliable and cheaper to maintain. I propose that the Du Vrangr Gata continue their lace production, the weavers of Surda can aid them in this to prevent further argument and the overall income can be divided accordingly between our offensive forces and the defence of Surda."

The argument continued for several minuets, during which Saphira cautiously poked her head through the opening and Eragon had to struggle to keep from falling asleep on the spot. Finally the council of elders, Orrin and his advisors left the tent, leaving Eragon alone with a bored looking Arya and scowling Nasuada.

"You requested our presence my liege?" Eragon said cautiously.

"Indeed and I would have done so sooner, if under different circumstances" replied Nasuada briskly.

"Due to The Battle of the Burning Planes our forces have suffered huge losses, this was unavoidable however our economy is also stretched thin and the men's morale is dwindling." She continued however her voice had risen slowly to a high pitch of despair.

"I've listened to that fool Orrin spouting on about how he can provide for us… But my rider I fear its time to take matters into our own hands. I will handle our recourses; I already have numerous economic strategies, some of which I have put into play already. However I leave the soldiers morale to you."

_Then I take it you agree on our plan concerning the Ra'zac?_

Arya finally looked up and spoke "We do Saphira; the death of those demons coupled with the rescue of a fair maiden will certainly boost the soldiers opinion of you. If you were to cure Elva in front of them then praise would be sung in your names for generations."

Eragon's eyes rose to meet Arya's as she said this. He smiled slightly while drowning in the emerald depths however she held his gaze without emotion and he looked down quickly, a light blush colouring his cheeks. Saphira continued for her as if nothing had happened.

_Then the healing of the Star Rose, Isidar Mithrim in Tronjheim would keep the Dwarves support for us… it would also show our respect for whomever they choose as Hrothgar's successor…_

Eragon and Nasuada bowed their heads in sorrow at this, remembering Hrothgar the previous dwarven king. Even Arya looked slightly pained.

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Uru'baen:

"Enter" the voice was cold, hard and completely commanding.

Zarin, the kings head sorcerer and personal assassin entered the room. He glanced around nervously. The king's study was impeccable as usual; almost everything within it was carved out of solid black marble radiating an incredibly un-subtle aura of power, however Galbatorixs' presence filled it with malovenance. His gaze reached Murtagh, huddled in the corner of the room still recovering from Galbatorix's rage after the battle. He then looked to the floor at the king's feet.

"Our informants report on the Varden your highness" he spoke clearly in a controlled voice while placing a scroll of parchment on the desk.

"Ah the Black Hand" the king murmured in a slightly affectionate voice. They were one of his more successful ideas. "You may leave Zarin, be sure to arrive at the Pentacle Tower in time for your transformation."

"Thank you, oh mighty one" replied Zarin his voice loosing its controlled edge. He had been awaiting this chance ever since joining the king's personal guard, after the shade Durza's death the king had been awarding 'transformations' to his most loyal servants.

"Oh one last thing"

Zarin turned cautiously at this.

"Any news on the band of Urgal's I sent through Du Fells Nangoroth?" the kings' voice was harsh, and accusing.

"None my lord, they seem to have disappeared just like the last troop. Yet the Hadarac Desert is a vast and dangerous place, it's possible that they have been waylaid by nomads."

"I see… You have given me much to ponder over." The king whispered in a clearly dismissive tone. After Zarin had left he turned his gaze to a basin of some dark liquid upon the marble desk, conjuring up an image in his mind he murmured:

"What are you playing at Grieg?" The scryed image remained black however he could feel intense power radiating from it. "So you are alive", his thoughtful muttering turned into a screamed oath as he hurled the basin at a cowering Murtagh.

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Isidar Mithrim- Star Rose

Du Vrangr Gata- The Wandering Path

Du Fells Nangoroth- A mountainous area in the Hadarac desert where wild dragons used to mate

A/N:

Will Eragon and Roran triumph over the Ra'zac?

Who are Zarin and Grieg? What's the 'Transformation' King Galbatorix is offering?

My first fan fiction! So please read and review, I'll cherish compliments and criticisms alike so don't go easy on me! There's more to come soon.

Btw sorry about the lack of action, there will be plenty of that in later chapters once the stories set out.


	3. Preperations And Contemplations

**Preparations and Contemplations **

Burning Planes War Camp:

Eragon left his tent shortly after dawn, stretching out his hard muscles in a luxurious yawn. The first thing he noticed was a large pack of supplies, strapped to Saphiras' saddle which was spread out on the floor.

"I packed last night, after you bunked down." Roran approached wearily hefting his hammer in one hand and a beautifully elegant, curved short sword in the other which he promptly threw to Eragon. "Its from Arya, she says it's no Za'roc but better than any human-made blade."

Eragon twirled it around between his palms admiring its weight and the way it caught the light. After thanking Roran he left to say his farewells.

Orik was slumped out on his bed, guzzling mead as Eragon entered his tent.

"How are you feeling?" He spoke out softly, knowing full well what was going through the dwarves mind. He had been through much the same thing after Garrow and then Brom's passing.

"Been better" was the grumbled reply but Orik looked up, grateful for the company. "I hear you've taken it upon yourself to slay the Ra'zac?"

"Aye, Roran and I are travelling to Helgrind shortly to take revenge on the Ra'zac amongst other things."

"Well give them hell for me!" roared the dwarf suddenly and then returned to his solemn tone. "And be sure to survive, we've lost too many warriors already and as a Durgrimst Ingeitum you are bound by honour to attend Hrothgar's funeral…"

"Of course" promised Eragon, noting how Orik's voice broke as he mentioned the former king.

_Poor Orik, he has suffered much _Saphira's voice came through the mental connection

_True, but there's nothing more I can do _He replied with regret

_Where are you anyway?_

_Hunting _She said briefly before severing the connection.

Eragon found Nasuada looking over numerous charts and a huge map of Alagaesia in her own tent. Bowing he said "I've come to notify you of me and Rorans departure my liege"

She looked up and smiled at him "Good fortune follow you Eragon, the funeral is in a week's time so try and make it to Tronjheim within five days"

"Thank you Nasuada", he embraced her warmly and left to seek out Arya.

Arya gazed out over the Jiet River. Though most of the disgusting flotsam had cleared, here and there a severed arm or leg would get caught up in the rocks, a gruesome testimony to the terrible battle. She was shocked out of her reverie by a nervous voice from behind her.

"I'm truly honoured that you thought to lend me your sword Arya Svit-Kona" Eragon blushed as she turned and graced him with a smile.

"You have much power Shadeslayer, but do not under-estimate the Ra'zac and their foul steeds. T'would be a grave mistake on your behalf." She looked into the depths of his eyes and smiled. "However I have full confidence in your ability, else I would never lend you my sword."

Eragon felt the emerald green of her eyes wash over him, studying him intently while he revelled in the wake of her smile.

"Your words hearten me Arya, though I must regretfully bid you farewell." He turned and left abruptly, not trusting himself to keep his cool during their formal banter. Sighing he made his way towards Roran who was waiting patiently a short distance away.

"May the star's watch over you Eragon" Aryas' stunning voice rang out like birdsong, causing him to pause for a moment. Remembering the battle of Farthen Dur she whispered softly to herself "Be safe Eragon… Wiol Pomnuria Ilian." (For my happiness)

"Saphiras gone hunting for a short while" said Roran as Eragon approached him. "Hmm…" In a flash Eragon drew Aryas sword and struck at Rorans throat, deliberately slowing the blow. He was surprised therefore when Roran's hammer struck it in mid-air, clashing in a shower of sparks.

"If we are to defeat the Ra'zac then you need some proper training brother." Eragon replied to his questioning gaze. After dulling Eragon's blade and softening Roran's hammer they sparred for awhile, Eragon showing Roran different tricks and techniques to use and trying to remember how Brom had taught him.

Saphira hovered above them half an hour later, amused that they still hadn't noticed her. Like lightning she dropped from the sky, pinning them both to the ground with her claws, a smug look on her face.

_Dead _

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Crags of Tel'naeir:

Soft rays of light shone through the window of Oromis' hut, illuminating two tall figures staring each other down and Glaedr the dragon, peering intently through the door.

"Why have you called me here Oromis?" The man who spoke looked about twenty five, he was tall and lean, built like an elf, but more muscled and with a light travellers tan as opposed to Oromis' pale white complexion. His face was ruggedly hansom, if slightly gaunt looking with intense blue eyes and well trimmed stubble forming a slight goatee beneath his mouth. His hair was short, dark and unkempt and his ears were subtly pointed, beyond that of a humans but less than an elf's. Very much like Eragons.

"You know very well why Grieg-vor, the battle was ours but the war goes in the empires favour. He has two riders of immense power in comparison to our one and his forces vastly out number ours." Oromis voice was strained and weak but he spoke out with a fierce passion.

"What difference do you think one man can make?" Grieg's voice was calm but had a hard edge to it.

"One man" laughed Oromis "absolutely nothing, you however… I believe you could make a very large difference if you put your mind to it."

"You wish for me to continue Eragons training, why may I ask?" Grieg adopted a curious tone. Oromis paused for a moment.

"You know spells of immense power, and your swordsmanship is next to none"

"As do you"

"Ah but age has taken its toll on me… Eragon will learn better with someone to physically show him the way, its how Brom taught him so fast." Oromis took a breath and continued "My time is running out Grieg, the Vault of Souls calls out to me like never before" Grieg looked down at this tears clouding his eyes.

"Don't speak like that Oromis! You and I will both live to see Galbatorixs' downfall I swear it!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep old friend. Instead make one you can keep, complete the Shadeslayers training." They both paused at this looking each other in the eye, and then:

"Aye, I never could argue like you Argetlam. Ill do as you ask."

"Excellent, this world owes you a lot Grieg-vor, to where should I instruct Eragon to go?"

"Ill be awaiting him at our rendezvous in the Du Fells Nangoroth, though you should know I fear Galbatorix is close to discovering my lair. Twice in the last month Urgals bearing the royal crest have come close to discovering me." Oromis seemed to go into deep thought at this.

"It cannot be helped; even you it seems cannot hide forever… I will send the rider and his dragon to you and you're… companion." Grieg looked around nervously at the mention of his 'companion' before walking towards the door.

"Until next time Oromis elda"

"Atra esterni ono thelduin Grieg-vor".

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Wiol Pomnuria Ilian- For my happiness, Eragon said this to Arya at the battle of Farthen Dur book 1

Vor- close friend

Atra esterni ono thelduin- May good fortune rule over you

Svit-Kona- honorific for an elf woman of great wisdom

A/N:

Thank you for reading my second chapter of Blood Always Tells.

Please leave a review, to let me know how I'm doing and how I can improve.

Next chapter will be based around Eragon and Rorans journey to Helgrind and confrontation with the Ra'zac.


	4. Slaying Demons

A/N – Welcome to the third chapter of Blood Always Tells. This chapter was a mission to write so I've alternated between Eragon and Rorans' POV'S as much of it is just as personal to Roran. (+ i like Roran as a character)

Sorry if it gets confusing!

** Slaying Demons**

Exhilaration surged through every fibre of Rorans being as he soared through the clouds, twisting and turning while the fierce wind battered against his face. He turned around to look at Eragon who was utterly relaxed, a contented smile on his face. And how different his face was thought Roran, suddenly realising how much Eragon must have gone through. The first night after the battle he had forced the entire story from him but only now, while riding Saphira could he begin to understand it.

_I'm glad you are finally seeing things from our point of view _

_Saphira! Give me some warning before breaking into my mind _Roran mentally shouted, he still wasn't used to the dragon's method of communication.

_Are you ok Little one?_ She questioned the unusually quiet Eragon.

_I'm fine Big one. _He replied jokingly.

_Guess that makes me Medium one. _Smiled Roran.

Looking to the horizon he squinted his eyes, attempting to find any sign that they were nearing Helgrind. They had been travelling on Saphira for two and a half days now, resting at nightfall or when the wind got too strong. During these times Roran and Eragon would spar, Roran alternating between his trusty hammer and a crude sword Eragon had persuaded him to borrow from Fredrik's armoury.

"We are getting close" Eragon broke the silence suddenly. Roran looked hard, but other than a small hill they approached he could see nothing.

"How can you tell?" He said, turning around to see a look of intense sadness on his cousin's face. As they landed on the hill Roran noticed a faint shining further up.

Saphira spoke solemnly.

_Brom's Tomb…_

Eragon dimly registered a conversation between Saphira and Roran. His mind however was focused on the upcoming tomb. The hills every feature was familiar to him, printed in his mind, two steeply cliffed sides and two gently sloping ones, an ideal position to defend from. And then the hallowed tomb at the very peak, positioned just above the cave which had been Brom's final resting place. He approached the grave slowly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes at any moment, as his adventures with Brom flowed through his mind freely. Brom had taught him so much in such a small amount of time, acting more like a father than a mentor.

"Why must everyone I get close to die?" Eragon whispered to himself, tears now flowing freely down his face as he lost the will to oppose them. Thoughts of death rose unbidden into his mind. Who would be next? Roran. Nasuada… Arya? For the first time since he had met her, Eragon began to believe that maybe Arya was right about their relationship, maybe they could never be. Age difference had always been a poor excuse, what were eighty or so years to an immortal! But despite all his arguments he knew that the time had come for him to put his love for her aside, if not for the greater good than for her own sake.

Glancing up Eragon noticed Saphira gazing at him, unconditional love with a touch of pity in her eyes. Drying his tears he embraced her long neck tightly, holding her like a life line from his sorrow.

Two hours later Eragon entered the cave, Saphira had left to go hunting a short while ago and Roran was putting the final touches to a fire. Plucking an apple from his pack Eragon lay against the floor peacefully, opting to remember his better times with Brom instead of grieving over what could have been.

"Barzul!" He looked up at Rorans sudden curse, the fires kindling was damp and wouldn't light.

"Brisingr" he murmured sleepily, and was rewarded by Rorans shout of alarm as the fire blazed up suddenly.

"It's hard to believe you're the same Eragon who left Carvahall all those months ago." Rorans sudden comment caught him off guard. "Farm boy, warrior, magician, rider… Shadeslayer."

"I've had to change, in order to survive. Much the same as you" Eragon replied defensively.

"You mentioned teaching me to defend against magic the night after the battle, perhaps now is the time?" Roran changed the subject, sensing Eragons unease.

"Aye now's the time" Eragon replied gratefully, and proceeded to instruct Roran on the nature of magic and how to fortify the mind against it.

Roran was struggling against Eragons mental probe, trying to focus all his attention on his hammer when Saphira interrupted.

_I've located Helgrind; it's about three hour's flight away_

Excitement and nervousness simultaneously wove themselves through Rorans mind as Saphira's words registered themselves. Three hour's! Three cursed hour's before he could rescue his love Katrina and avenge Garrow's death. Nervousness soon kicked in though, the Ra'zac were fearsome opponents and had left terror as well as anger in his heart. Terror of the unknown, which hounded Roran mercilessly due to his ignorance. It would soon be time to confront his demons, and slay them. Literally.

After much debating Eragon managed to convince Roran to spend the night in the cave. They would wake at dawn and ride out until Helgrind was in sight, from there Saphira would attempt to lure the Ra'zac out to Roran and Eragon, who would fight them where they where weakest, daylight. Whilst Eragon and Roran duelled the Ra'zac Saphira would hold off the Lethrblaka, until Eragon was free and could aid her with magic.

Eight hour's later:

Roran led the horses to a quiet glade, concealed by several large bushes whilst Eragon silenced and calmed them, using words from the ancient language. On the final leg of the journey Eragon had informed Roran of everything he knew about the Ra'zac, remembering his lesson with Oromis. Neither spoke as they carried out the assorted tasks, both mentally preparing themselves for the upcoming battle. A sharp pain struck Eragon through his mental connection to Saphira.

_They come!_

Three small specks appeared in the sky as Saphira's frantic words reached them. Roran glanced at Eragon and then walked out into the open, hammer held tightly in his hands, sword at his waist while Eragon concealed himself with the horses.

Thud Thud Thud

Three pairs of wings beat out their harsh melody.

Thud Thud Thud

Beads of sweat began to form on Rorans forehead.

Thud Thud Thud!

The mighty creatures swooped over the campsite, Saphira in the lead, the two Lethrblaka snapping at her tail. Roran roared and swung his hammer mightily, clipping one of the Lethrblaka's taloned feet and sending it spinning off course. From the other, the larger Ra'zac swiftly descended, landing smoothly before Roran who spun his hammer intricately and advanced. He was halted by a soft pad from behind him as the second Ra'zac landed.

"Soo, the mighty warrior hass finally graced us with his presence" The words chilled him to the bone, and had a slight menacing hiss to them.

"Shame the king wantss him alive, he and the pretty girl would make a passable two course meal." The smaller Ra'zac snickered and licked the edge of his blade.

"I the Stronghammer of justice have come to claim vengeance for my father's death, and to rescue that which is dear to me. You would do well to move aside." Roran spoke out, a touch of fire to his voice.

"Advance if you can human." Both Ra'zac said together with utmost spite and breathed out deeply. As their breath polluted the air Roran felt his insides go numb and, try as he might could not move an inch in either direction.

"You have grown ignorant in your dominance." Eragons voice cut through the Ra'zac's illusion, freeing Roran instantly. "You forget that with a dragon… Comes a rider!"

With that both Eragon and Roran leapt forward, smashing into the still startled Ra'zac'.

Eragon felt Arya's blade come alive in his hand as he danced forward, thrusting and parrying, showing no signs of effort as the Ra'zacs blade blocked him at every turn. Feinting high he swung at the beasts legs, grazing one slightly and causing it to back away hissing. Beast and man stared each other over contemplating the next move. While Eragon's speed and strength were without match, the Ra'zacs' cunning, ruthlessness and experience made it a more than worthy opponent... With the sword.

"Playtimes over." He grinned and reached into his mind seeking out words to hunt down the pressure points on the beast's neck, when the second Ra'zac surprised him from the left, its blade already streaked with blood.

Roran blinked rapidly as beads of sweat trickled into his eyes. His endurance and fighting skills had improved to-no-end since his training with Eragon had begun however the smaller Ra'zac thwarted him at every turn, seeming to second-guess his movements, its blade cutting through the air like crimson lightning as cuts started to appear all over his bruised body. Screaming aloud he brought his hammer down in a reckless arc at the demon hoping to catch it by surprise… And was met with a face full of steel as the Ra'zac countered his advance and smashed the hilt of its blade into his unprotected face, rewarded by the soft crunch of a broken nose as the spent warrior fell backwards in shock. With utmost distain the demon leapt at Eragon.

Eragon recoiled instantly, his sword swinging up and cutting both Ra'zacs blades out of the air. Unable to concentrate on magic he tried to lash out but was blocked by one blade as the other homed in on his throat. Forced into a defensive stance Eragon found himself losing ground rapidly as he parried the relentless super human strikes, only sheer technique or luck could get him out of this mess.

Looking up through his blood and tears Roran saw Eragon fighting a losing battle; Saphira's brutal charges were being gradually tamed by the two Lethrblaka and fear engulfed him as he realised that this was the end, not just for him, nor Eragon but the entire resistance… Katrina

"I've failed her" he sobbed to himself "I've failed them all." Darkness engulfed his senses and the last thing he saw was Eragon fall to the ground. Defeated.

"NO!" Light burst into his vision, and his senses sprung back into full form.

"I am Roran Stronghammer!" He roared aloud and drew his sword magnificently as the Ra'zac turned in surprise, leaving Eragon looking at him in awe from the ground. Taking a breath he made to stride towards them and fell forward, flat on his face from the effort.

Arrogant laughter filled his ears as the Ra'zac advanced cockily.

"Your pretty mate will pay dearly for this human. You will watch, helpless as I rip her apart, flesh from bone… slowly… delicately."

At that Roran snapped. Green fire flared through his senses and burst cataclysmically in his mind as he drew his sword once more and threw it mightily. Without realising what he was doing he screamed aloud with every particle of his being.

**"Brisingr!"**

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A/N – Hehe hate to leave you on a cliff hanger but the next chapter should be up soon. Sorry if the end seems slightly rushed, or if Roran is completely out of character.

As usual please review!


	5. To Helgrind!

** To Helgrind!**

"**Brisingr!"**

The blade flew at the Ra'zac like lightning, but time seemed to slow down for Eragon. He watched as the crude sword burst into dark oceanic green flames and homed in on the Ra'zac who had spoken, the Ra'zac who was standing but a few meters in front of him. Suddenly he remembered his first time in Yazuac, he had enchanted the arrows he launched at his urgal foe and quite by accident caused a huge explosion of magical power.

"Barzul!" He cursed realising at once what was going to happen, and he launched himself into the air with all his power, flying as high and far away as he possibly could.

Boom!

The explosion carried him a few more feet where he came to rest in a heap upon the ground, unharmed but unnerved. Looking up he saw the glade in ruins, small patches of emerald flame scattered about the place. The larger Ra'zac was in a smouldering pile of twisted ash on the ground, and another smaller heap of ash was sprinkled around the white hot sword, embedded in the earth.

"Eragon…" he twisted sharply as he heard his name, Roran was laying spread eagled on his back, eyes clouded over.

"Roran! Are you-"

"Eragon, we have little time. Leave me be and help Saphira, only you two can rescue Katrina now."

Eragon gulped, tears clouding his eyes as Roran slipped into unconsciousness.

Reality struck at him like the Ra'zac's twisted blades, Saphira!

Looking up he saw her hovering in mid-air, blasting jets of flame at the Lethrblaka who circled her like birds of prey, snapping at her tail and wings ruthlessly the moment she turned her back.

_Saphira, fly low I'll distract them with magic._

In answer she swooped low soaring over his head, the two Lethrblaka following close behind.

"Jierda!" He cried, smiling in satisfaction as the thin membrane of a taloned wing snapped brutally, causing the effected Lethrblaka to spiral towards the ground, letting out an ear splitting screech as a jet of crimson fire met it mid-fall. With a snarl of pure rage the second beast flew straight at him, instantly wiping the smile off his face.

Delving into his mind he sought out the twelve death words seeking to end the demons life with the energy of lifting a pencil. As he sought out the crucial pressure points and arteries over its fast approaching body however he realised how very different its structure was compared to any human or animal he had ever seen, with a sinking heart he thought back to Oromis' lessons, the Ra'zac and their steeds were designed to be the perfect hunters of humans, he would have to resort to more crude methods. Summoning up the image of a broken neck he spoke out once again.

"Jierda."

The beast was seconds away from reaching him yet all he achieved was to fall to his knees from the huge amount of effort. While the Lethrblaka's wings were thin and brittle the bones in its neck and spine were immensely strong and magically resistant, it would take more energy than he had to break them…

A gaping black hole filled his vision as the beasts huge mouth snapped open, closing over him as the foul stench choked him blind.

**SNAP**

The surrounding darkness was replaced by stunning sapphire blue as Saphira swooped in, her razor jaws slicing into the Lethrblaka's neck and ripping it clean off inches before Eragon's face, showering him with dark blood.

"You're late…" He whispered before blacking out.

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When Eragon came-to he was sprawled on the floor of the glade, lying next to Roran who was looking thoroughly battered and beaten but still alive.

_Welcome back little one, I was worried I had arrived too late… _The guilt and remorse in Saphira's voice stabbed at his heart.

_You're timing was perfect Saphira, I should be sorry- instead of sticking to the basics I attempted magic too ambitious. Where it not for you it would have cost me my life._

She smiled gratefully and nuzzled his neck.

_Roran will be fine with the horses, if you have the energy we should leave for Helgrind now. _

_Aye we've had our vengeance at a large cost, but Roran would never forgive us if we left Katrina now… To Helgrind._

A/N – Sorry about the length of this chapter. But the last one tired me out lol and I felt it better to split the Helgrind deal into two smaller sections instead of one huge one. I'm on holiday for about the next 5 days so there will be a short while till my next post.

The next chapter will take a short interlude from the main plot and will focus on Zarin and Galbatorix. As usual please Read and Review.

Grogins


	6. Dark Intentions

A/N – I'm back, and Chapter 5 is now up! Please take the time to read and review. Incidentally I wrote the first part of this chapter listening to 'Dark Intentions' a short but very atmospheric song by The Haunted. It might be best to read it a few times, as I think I made the spirit realm bit quite hard to understand.

Dark Intentions

**Uru'baen:**

Zarin climbed the spiral stone stairs of Galbatorix's pentacle tower as calmly as he possibly could, though apprehension and nervousness flowed through him furiously. The dank circular walls seemed to slope inwards the higher he got, like some feral beast closing in on him. Forcing himself to clear his mind he felt deep within himself, accessing the reserves of magic he had prepared for this event. If all went to plan that magic would mean nothing, dwarfed by far superior powers and neither would his body, his conscience or his soul. He was selling his soul to the devil… Almost literally.

His veiny pale knuckles rapped at a cold steel door in an intricate rhythmic pattern ten times, and the door slowly grated open, leaking a thick dark mist onto the stairway. Something inside the room seemed to reach out to him, willing him to relax his mind and submit himself to the darkness, Zarin hesitated; he was doing the right thing, that much he knew. Galbatorix was a cursed old fool however he was the key to peace in this broken world and by undergoing a transformation he could help and even fight alongside his king when the time for war came. Yes… He was doing this for the good of the kingdom, at the cost of his own good. Taking a deep breath Zarin entered the Chamber of Lost Souls.

"Ah Zarin!" The king's voice shocked him out of his reverie of final thoughts.

"I see you have chosen to accept my gracious offer?" Zarin didn't miss the underlying menace behind the king's words; the slightest slip could cost him his life.

"I have oh benevolent one, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be able to serve my king and home to the fullest of my abilities."

"And those abilities will soon be very full indeed!" The king remarked idly.

Zarin laughed politely and as the king prompted him advanced to the centre of the room where he stood above a huge pentacle drawn into the ground.

"Durziac you will seek, none other… is that clear?"

"Aye my liege" And with that he finally relaxed his mind, allowing himself to be drawn into the spirit realm.

Strange hues of yellow and orange swirled around him, as he floated freely through a cosmos of energy. Tranquillity took him into a soft embrace and seemed to caress him in a soft white light, but he hardened his mind reluctantly, feeling the familiar solid walls of his mind surround him, protecting him from the alien evil he was entering. Pride rose in his chest, tens of the kings best servants had attempted this feat, and none had succeeded yet here he was, strolling through the legendary Vault of Souls unopposed and as of yet, untried.

"Durziac" He loosed a tendril of thought into the surrounding atmosphere, willing it to seek out his prey. However the moment he relaxed his defence's needles rammed his mind brutally, causing random emotions to rise in him forcefully.

Hate – Seared through him like the branding iron his father had struck him with on his fourth birthday.

Passion – Burst in him beautifully as he dove into his young love Lucille for the first time… Then

Sadness – As he wept at her death bed, slain in one of the Vardens earlier raids on the Empire.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" The final walls broke down as overbearing pressure enveloped him, smothering and crushing him as if he were no more than an ant.

"Stop." The voice was outwardly quiet and calm but held underlying menace and evil to rival Galbatorix's.

"To what end do you seek me out _human" _The pressure lifted from him slightly and Zarin breathed the foul air in gratefully. He had come to harness the spirit Durziac and now was his chance. Durziac seemed to guess his intentions however as he laughed cruelly.

"Another one of Galbatorix's pitiful pet sorcerers seeking to absorb my power perhaps?"

Zarin smiled sadly.

"Aye that was the case… but I see I have no chance against a soul as mighty and terrible as yours."

Durziac's harsh laughter ripped through him again and he let down his guard, for a split second. Zarin seized the opportunity and focused his substantial power into a single bolt of concentrated energy, blasting it at the spirit with all his power…

Durziac flinched and then smiled. Zarin felt the colour drain from his face as he saw this.

"Most impressive, for a human… Yes I think you will do." The spirit murmured thoughtfully.

Zarin tried to retreat but found his minds path blocked on all sides. "Wh-what do you mean?" he stuttered, terror's soft embrace enveloping him.

"Ha-ha you poor pitiful fool… You mean nothing to king Galbatorix, he knows no man alive can control me, he sent you here in the hope that **you** would be possessed, not me."

"No… Never! I will not allow some foul spirit to enter my mind."

"How much does the good king pay you, dear Zarin?" The question caught him off guard but he sighed reluctantly, accepting his fate as gracefully as he could.

"Not nearly enough Durziac"

Galbatorix started as Zarin's perfectly still figure moved for the first time in four hours. After twitching a few times and letting out a chilling scream the sorcerer fell to his knees clutching at his face.

"Durziac?" The king questioned, and Zarin raised his head slowly. His jet black hair was slowly acquiring a blood red tint to it; his eyes were black as night and his face pale as the moon. He grinned widely, showing sharply pointed, perfectly white teeth.

"You know why I have summoned you here?" The king spoke confidently, as if daring Durziac to challenge him.

"You have not summoned me Galbatorix… I come and go as I please. But yes I know why you have **invited** me here." Replied Durziac

"Eragon must not be killed, beaten yes but we need him and the dragon alive if we wish to create a new generation of riders."

Durziac was silent for a moment and then whispered

"Fine, but the second he becomes expendable or a threat… I will tear him to pieces."

He made his way to the door and turned, smiling cruelly at Galbatorix.

"The Shadeslayer will die by my hand, that I swear… He killed my brother Durza, and blood always tells..."

And so the Shade left.

A/N - I'm having a good time writing this, and i hope you are enjoying reading it. Only trouble is... you don't seem to be reading it, or reviewing anyway. If you have ANY comments on my story, writing style, whatever Pleaseee give me a review.

Those who have reviewed have my thanks.  
Gregory


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